A Cheap Trick and a Cheesy One-Liner
by Steve the Icecube
Summary: *I promise this isn't some silly little flick novel. This is serious.* So, I'll write this novel. Not for fame or glory, I have enough of that already. No, this is to get the truth out. Because there is so much that people don't know about me. I don't want to be portrayed as a flimsy celebrity anymore. I've had horror in my life and I'm sick of everyone thinking I'm innocent.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Right. This, my awesome minions or whatever you are reading this, is my Camp NaNoWriMo novel. The target was 30,000 words in a month and I made it, and the novel is nowhere near finished. So, updates will be fast as the chapters will be very, very short. Seriously. There are a couple that are only like, two paragraphs. But I hope you enjoy it!**

**Please note: The canon events have been changed. And all of this is stretching the truth of all possible Tony headcanons I include in a lot of things.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Tony Stark or Iron Man or any other owned thing that is in this.**

When Tony Stark sat down to write a novel about himself, it was shit because I wasn't writing in first person.

Yeah, if I write in third person this will be crap.

Welcome to my introduction. Bruce is looking over my shoulder, so he should stop reading this right now.

He says I shouldn't swear in my autobiography. Well, fuck him. I can swear as much as I like.

Bruce says I'm being childish. But _I _think that that's bullshit, I've grown up through the whole Iron Man thing.

Bruce says I'm even more childish now. Caused by psychological trauma or some crap like that.

Hmm. It's just occurred to me that this novel will reveal how crazy I really am. No one will want me around once people have read it. Maybe I should start planning my life as a recluse. I'll need alcohol, lots of computers and Bruce. Malibu or Stark Tower?

I'm being silly, aren't I?

Well, I really don't care. This is my novel and I'm going to write what I like.

This'll probably just end up as some stupid monologue that no one in their right mind would read but you'll all read it anyway because you all love me or something.

I hate you all. All those people who just love me because I saved your asses. None of you love _me_. The only person who'll read this because they love the person I really am is Bruce.

I really shouldn't proclaim my hate to the people of get me all the money I have.

Sigh.

I'm sorry.

You're going to read this and find out so many things about the person _I _am. And you'll hate me after you're finished, I promise.

*A*


	2. Chapter 2

(These are a bunch of diaries I found a while back that my dad wrote about me. I know he didn't write some of it because he was a dick and didn't know me. I recognise Jarvis' handwriting on some of it, too. I flicked through them, but I haven't read them yet. So I'll be adding comments as I go along with writing. I'll use brackets like [this] for my dad's brackets.

Don't be surprised at what you see here. You didn't ever see who my dad was.)

My son was born last night.

I'm worried about his health, but in the chance that he makes it, I'm writing these diaries about him. So he can look back and remember me, just in case I'm a bad dad around him. (Well, you were.)

He's premature by almost a month. He was so small, and he came out purple and tiny. He's barely the size of my cupped hands. That's too small, I know.

He wasn't breathing, either, when he was born. But that was sorted. Though he's weak, so weak that I've been told he most likely won't make it through the night, let alone the week.

We haven't named him yet. We hadn't, not planning on his birth for another month. I'm not going to just yet, I don't want to get Maria's hopes up.

I hope Maria is okay. I was there when he was born, but I had to go to a board meeting. We were lucky that Maria was there for a check-up after a reporter had accidently knocked her down. I was furious, and I'm almost certain that the reporter is now without a job.

Just in the case that he makes it, I've started looking for a carer for my son. We don't want to be kept up by his wails, or kept from important meetings by vomit or cries or feeding time. I know through research that babies are very demanding creatures and the need copious amounts of care. (Did you recite that from a textbook?)

*A*


	3. Chapter 3

He made it. My son made it. The doctors said that he barely slept all night, which was a bit worrying, but he was fine by the morning and the incubator did him a world of good.

He's strong enough to make it through the next few months at least, and he should make it for a long time once he has his injections.

I'm glad. (I'd be worried if you weren't.)

He'll be taken care of by an experienced father; a butler at our mansion in New York. His wife died in the childbirth of his twin daughters, and he had to raise the two on his own with only the insurance money and his job that he worked from home to do. His daughters are now grown up, him being in his forties. His name is Edwin Jarvis. (I knew all these things about Jarvis, and a lot more. I know the names of his daughters and I've met them many times.)

I've made a family friend his godfather, Obadiah Stane. I did ask Nick Fury to be his godfather, but Nick, being the spy he is, refused, as he didn't want a tie to a famous family like us. I was disappointed, but I understand.

And, most of all, we named him.

We went through several names, the first being Edward, which we discarded as sounding like he was stupid should he choose to shorten it to Eddie. We went through a few others, Steven (I was nearly named after Spangles? Ugh!), Philip, and finally, Anthony.

We went through names and shortenings, narrowing it down finally to Anthony, or Tony if he shortens it. Then we went through two middle names, Philip and Edward, before choosing Edward.

Anthony Edward Stark. He sounds intelligent already. (And that will be the last time my dad speaks fondly of me.

No, I'm joking. I'm pretty sure he liked me until I learned to speak.)

*A*


	4. Chapter 4

Anthony and Maria come home from the hospital today. I'm looking forward to her getting home.

Jarvis has Anthony's room ready. It is shared with his for the moment, but as soon as he's about six months, which is the recommended time he sleep in a room on his own, he'll move to a conjoining room.

Anthony currently has a moses basket which is a long way too big for him, but I'm sure he'll grow into it. It looks like it will be comfy for him. (That last paragraph was written by Jarvis.)

I hope Jarvis looks after Anthony very well. He's British, and was from a very high-earning family, so I don't know _why _he was struggling with his twins, and why he couldn't just hire a nurse to take care of them. But the main point of that is he seems incredibly well-mannered and I'm sure he'll pass that on to my son.

I'll probably write more later, when I have finished meeting my son properly.

I have a lot of work to do. The US Army is being quite demanding at the moment, though I have created the contracted amount of weapons for them already this year, so instead I am working on a very advanced radar system, in a hope to launch a successful search for Captain Rogers.

Hm. That's another thing about my son. I wonder if he'll be as pleasant and humble as Steve. I should hope so. Maybe he'll be a Captain America fan. He'd be one of the best fans, me actually knowing him.

*A*


	5. Chapter 5

I met Anthony but three hours ago, and I must say, he is quite a nice baby.

I've met a few in my time, a popular public reputation stunt being to go and hold people's children whilst the proud mother takes a photo that they will treasure and brag about to all the other mothers in the area. At least, that's what I presume happens. It seems quite a likely response.

He's very small, very light, with a small, still slightly wrinkled pink face, and of course, the usual soft skull of a young baby. I was very careful whilst holding him for the short while that I did, before I handed him back to the very protective Maria. He felt so light that he would simply slip out of my hands whilst I was holding him should I not keep an eye on him at all times. Or maybe it was that he was squirming so much.

He's yet to have any hair, being so premature, but I'm sure he'll have some very soon. It will most likely be dark, given the dark colour of both mine and Maria's hair. Dark eyes too, probably. And, of course, he'll be handsome. I was quite the charmer before I got married, and I'm not ashamed to admit that my good looks still get me a bit of favour with women.

I think I'll like Anthony when he gets a little older. I'll tell him stories of Captain America and the war, of my romantic courtship of Maria [which came after the one-night stand.] (He didn't tell me the last bit.), and all the amazing things I've done in the world and the great things he will do.

But now, he is just like any other new-born. (Gee, thanks Dad.) He is most likely incapable of intelligent thought [though that is yet to be proved if babies have intelligent thought].

Jarvis took him when Maria was done cooing over him, and fed him from a microwave heated bottle before taking Anthony to bed. I don't know what Jarvis' current job is other than taking care of Anthony, but I'm almost certain that he has been excused from his job as a butler until Anthony is old enough. (He was. Jarvis didn't go back to working as a butler until I was seven, and he only worked when I wasn't at school.)

That was when I went back to my study and continued writing this, really as if nothing ever happened.

I have to work on my press statement now, to tell the press about Anthony. I don't really know whether I want them to know yet, the press will be highly demanding about seeing him, and me, and Maria on camera, giving interviews, etc. But I know that it has to be done, because it will be better to get it out early than have it go into gossip when someone gets Maria on camera, or for me to be asked a question about Anthony and when he will be born for everyone to find out I haven't told people about it the moment he was born.

I really hate the press sometimes, but it's how it works, with being famous and all. (I obviously hate them more than you, then.)

*A*


End file.
